
Class fS 5 ^jf 
Book > A3 3 P C ^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



A flfiiiier fatten 



HURLEY LEE RAGON 



'> LOWELL. INDIANA 

H. H. RAGON'S SONS. PuUH^heT* 






0)CLA622381 

14^ / 



Copyright 1921 

ADSLIA H. BAGON 



(Published in United States of Ameiiea) 



AUG10'2I 



A Flower Garden 



Lovingly Dedicated 

to 

The Andromeda 



A Flower Garden 



(Each Flower Represents a Person.) 



At first, it was a very, very small garden; 
just a tiny nook, that contained only two 
plants, a slender lovely lily, and a handsome 
glowing jasmine. For a short time, just the 
space that it takes two or three years to fill, 
these two grew together, loving and happy. 

The lily in her slender loveliness, would 
frolic and flirt and become very chummy, if 
the wind was pleasant and the sun was 
bright, and the garden was tended by those 
who loved it. 

And when it was thus,, the jasmine, glow- 
ing and handsome, would smile and whis- 
per lovingly to her, so happy was he, just 
because she was. But if the wind grew cold 
and the sun hid for days behind a cloud, and 
no loving hands tended the tiny garden, then 

Pagre Seven 



the jasmine, ever true, would lovingly bend 
his great height to the lily, whispering words 
of encouragement and cheer. He would be 
so gentle and tender, that the lily would al- 
most, forget the cold winds and clouds ; al- 
most, but not quite. Always at times, the re- 
memberance of those unkind things would 
come, and cause her to sadden and shudder a 
very little. Forever there was a tiny scar, 
the mark that had been left by this rude 
treatment. And the jasmine saw and under- 
stood, and was kinder and more gentle. 

Finally another little flower came into this 
garden. A tiny seedling it was. Perhaps 
God put it here, because he knew these two 
needed it ; or maybe it crept in for protection, 
when it saw the lily so gracious and sweet, 
and the jasmkie so strong and helpful. And 
the lily and the jasmine loved it very dearly, 
and called it their tiny sunbeam. 

And it grew and thrived, and was pure 
and lovely, like all things that grow in the 
garden of Love. But finally u, north wind 
blew, cold and bitter; the clouds gathered in 
a black thickness, those that loved this little 
'garden, most of them found other interests, 
and the lily paled r.iid fade^^ a little more 

Ptige Sifirbt 



each day, as the}^ passed. In vain did the 
jasmine try to shield the lily from it all. He 
tried very hard ; he did all that he knew, but 
it w^as of no avail. The lily drooped and 
fainted, until it w^as gone, leaving again only 
two in the tiny garden. 

Then the jasmine, still strong and loving^ 
and kinder and more gentle yet, because of 
this great grief, found that the tiny floweret 
they had called their sunbeam, had to be 
transplanted, had to be put in another gar- 
den, else it too would sicken and die, from 
want of sunshine and love. So the change 
was made, the transplanting took place, and 
the little floweret began again to grow and 
bi-ighten the garden it had been taken to. 

But the transplanting, and the loss of the 
lovely lily, had left a scar on the jasmine. 
The process had been to him almost like an 
ugly worm, eating at his roots, and sending 
its slow poison into his heart. He never 
knew, never quite understood that it was a 
lesson that had been given him, that he 
might profit by it. x\fter that, he was not 
always so gentle and so fine. Sometimes, 
he was very harsh and unkind to those near- 
est him. Perhaps it was the loneliness in. 

Page Nine 



'his heart for the lovely lily, and the tiny sun- 
beam. It is possible that always there was 
a constant ache in his heart for their sweet 
presence. But whatever it was, he did not 
stay long* in the little garden where they had 
grown. 

He tried to make another garden, bat he 
failed, failed miserably, those that were 
nearest him said, while others talked ever 
of his great goodness. But whatever it was, 
ht did not stay long in this second garden. 
A huge monster crawled up to him and 
snapped out his life so quickly, that he could 
not say goodbye to those near him, or CA^en 
to the little floweret that had been trans- 
planted from his first garden. 

But though the tiny garden was almost 
ruined, though the lily and jasmine had been 
taken away, and the wee veronica had been 
transplanted, there remained one blossom 
that was happy and cheerful, w^hether the 
wind was cold or warm. The Chinese chrys- 
anthemum grew stronger and more helpful 
each day, lending cheer and sunshine to the 
garden. And though it stayed in the tiny 
garden alone for many years, sometimes 
lonely and sad, yet it never ceased its watch- 

Pafire Ten 



fill love for the veronica, the only flower left 
on earth, that one tmie had grown in the 
garden with it. 

In the garden, where the veronica had 
been transplanted, grew a mountain laurel, 
a honeysuckle, and a thorn-apple. And they 
too learned to love the little veronica; 
learned to cherish it, and attend to its tiny 
needs. They came to know that it must al- 
ways be kept warm; that because it had 
started in a garden of Love, and later trans- 
planted to them, that it must be very care- 
fully and tenderly watched and shielded 
from the rough elements and ugly weeds all 
about it. 

And the mountain laurel put aside some 
of its ambitious climbing, some of its reach- 
ing up for greater height, and stooped and 
gathered into its embrace the little flowering 
veronica. Very dutifully and cheerfully it 
took up this task, that had come to it, and 
each dav told the honevsuckle and the thorn 
apple how the veronica was playing and 
growing in this garden, where it had been 
transplanted. 

And the honeysuckle and the veronica 
loved each other very greatly. But after aH, 

Pasre Eleven 



that was not so strange, for the honeysuckle 
loved, with a patient true love, all the flow- 
ers in the garden, and even the garden itselL 
Day by day, and each and every hour of the 
days^ it thouglit only of those that grew in 
the garden with it, and loved them, with a 
constant love that was purifying and re- 
freshing. 

And the thorn apple loved too; loved in a 
way that was not always kind. Often at 
night, when it was dark and cold, the ver- 
onica would seek the thorn apple for protec- 
tion, and sometimes he would turn it away, 
with a harshness that left it terrified and 
trembling. But again, he would be very 
loving and helpful, sometimes bringing to 
the veronica, the very thing it had most ear- 
nestly desired. 

Thus the years went on, and the mountain 
laurel, the honeysuckle, and the thorn apple 
saw the veronica growing and playing and 
leaving behind each day as it passed, a little 
more of its infancy and coming, with the 
passing days, to the garden of childhood. 

And the childhood garden was wide and 
long, and was swept over by fresh whole- 
some breezes, and there was a host of flow- 



Pfcge T\«clvc 



ers and some weeds also, all growing to- 
gether. And the veronica romped and 
played the hours of the days away, among 
the flowers and weeds. Romped and played, 
sang and cried, in this great wide garden, 
where it found itself, each day. But always 
at night, it would come back to the spot 
where the honeysuckle and the mountain 
laurel and thorn apple were expectantly 
waiting for it. 

And though it had been wilful and 
naughty, during the day, and the mountain 
laurel and thorn apple would chide and scold 
and reprove, yet the honeysuckle would al- 
ways have a loving whisper and pat for this 
impulsive capricious floweret, which had 
been transplanted to his garden. 

So the days went by into years, and the 
garden grew larger and larger, and there 
were more flowers and more weeds. And 
to this great wide garden came one day 
another lily, slender and graceful and lovely, 
very much like the lily that the jasmine had 
loved. She came to find the veronica that 
had been transplanted, and when she found 
it, she showered a wealth of love on this 
simple little bloom. So much did she idolize 

F»f e Thirte«a 



and worship this childish plant, that it was 
bewildered and knew not what to do. It 
could only sit in rapt silence, and wonder 
why all the flowers in the garden could not 
be as tender and as kind as the lovely lily. 
The veronica was puzzled to know why 
others did not bring the beautiful gifts and 
love to it, that the lily always brought. 

But the lily was not congenial to some of 
the flowers in this garcjten, and so she never 
stayed very long, nevei" grew and flourished 
in this garden, but would come only for a 
time to visit and to worship the veronica. 
And for many years she came and she wais 
always lovely and charming and kind. But 
after a time, she too went to find that other 
lily, and the jasmine, and the veronica saw 
her no more. But often she longed for her, 
for her graceful sweetness, and her adoring 
love. 

And the years were passing, bringing 
many changes to the garden where the ver- 
onica grew. New flowers were coming each 
day, lovely faces were smiling everywhere, 
and there was pleasure and work, sunshine 
and clouds, winter ^nd summer. 

And the garden was larger yet, it had be- 

Page Fourteen 



come very greedy, and had borrowed flow-- 
erets from other gardens, that it might be 
more beautiful and charming. And among 
these borrowed treasures was a violet, a 
larkspur, a yellow chrysanthemum, and a 
campanula. These four the veronica chose 
for its friends. They were to be with it in 
these youthful days, a pleasure and a solace. 

By now it had become wise enough to 
know that they would stay in the garden for 
many years, and it felt that it wanted their 
loving- goodness for strength each day as 
it grew in this everwidening* garden ; to meet 
the responsibilities and share the joys that 
this growing garden was bringing. 

Thus it came about that the violet, the 
larkspur, the yellow chrysanthemum, and 
the veronica grew very close together. And 
the violet was beloved by all, so sweet and 
impartial was she in her love for all thosr^ 
who grew with her. But the larkspur was 
ever capricious and haughty and wilful. 
And the yellow chrysanthemum was diffi- 
dent and shy, slow to speak, but in its heart 
was a great wealth of affection, for the 
violet, the larkspur and the veronica. And 
over them all watched the campanula. 

PajTc Fifteen * 



Day by day he watched these four play 
and work, in sorrow and joy, helped them in 
their youthful problems, loaned and gave to 
them of his own store of experience and 
wisdom. Day by day he taught them the 
things they should know, and often when 
the twilight would be coming over the gar- 
den, he would tell them of the tasks that lay 
before them in the future, and of the impor- 
tance of fitting themselves for that future, 
and those tasks. 

Then when several years had passed, and 
a great event was coming into the lives of 
the four over which the campanula had 
watched, the thorn apple proved once 
more to the veronica how lovely and 
kind it could be, when the blossoming time 
came. Once more it brought to the veronica, 
the thing it had labored so hard for, and so 
earnestly desired. And the veronica was 
wildly happy, so grateful was it. It said 
very little, but like the lovely lily, it never 
forgot. 

After this event, in the lives of these four, 
they did not see the yellow chrysanthemum 
so often. It had sought other associates and 
wider fields, in which to frolic and work. 

F«c» Sixteea 



•^ 



And the seasons passed. Spring and sum- 
mer, autumn and winter slipped away, one 
after another, but their passing did not af- 
fect in any way, the larkspur, the violet, or 
the veronica. They had their times for sleep- 
ing, for growing, and blooming, for giving 
to tliose about them of their beauty and fra- 
grance. 

And very often, when all was hushed and 
quiet around them, with no ears to listen, 
save their own, they talked of the yellow 
chrysanthemum, and wondered in what wide 
field it might be that day. And though the 
larkspur was haughty and wilful, and the 
violet sweet and lovely, and the veronica im- 
pulsive and capricious, yet they dwelt very 
happily together, for several years, w^th no 
change in their affections for each other. 

But there were changes coming to them; 
the shadow of what was to be was over them 
and much nearer than any of them dreamed 
of. As yet they could not see it, so dim and 
distant was it. But Father Time, who 
watches over all the gardens in this great 
wide world, saw it, and knew just what it 
noeant to each one, so he began to prepare 
them for the time when the shadow should 



come and cast its darkness over these three. 

And into the garden where these three 
lived, he put a pine tree, because he knew 
that every garden needs a tree. The flowers 
. need it for shade and protection, and the 
garden needs it to give it strength and dig- 
nity. And the reason he chose a pine tree 
for this garden was, because he knew the 
pine tree never changes. Summer and win- 
ter it is the same, always green, always 
whispering to those nearest it, words of en- 
couragement, or of the things that are high 
up in the world, to where it is ever persist- 
ently climbing. 

Father Time knew that the pine tree 
would tell the blossoms and the plants, when 
the black clouds were gathering, and a 
drenching* rain was coming, or when the 
wnnd was to blow cold from the north, and 
bring the snow and ice. For up there where 
it was, so high above all the others, it could 
see and feel these changes coming. Truly, 
the pine tree was a sentinel, watching over 
the garden day after day. 

Finally, the veronica learned to love the 
pine tree, and after several years, they found 
that it was best for them to make a garden 

Pagre Eiirhte*?n 



of their very own. Just such a garden as the 
lily and jasmine had grown in, and where 
God had put the veronica. And the violet 
and larkspur soon made gardens of their 
own also. But the shadow was coming. 
Father Time could see it hovering large and 
black now, and very close to the violet's gar- 
den. But she did not see it, so happy was 
she in her garden of love and beauty. But 
all at once it came; came on the wings of a 
storm wind, and settled down over the 
violet's garden, with a crushing, fearful 
weight. And all the flowers that grew in 
this garden that the violet had made, tried 
with all their strength and love to push back 
and away this awful black shadow. And 
the larkspur and veronica tried also ; very 
hard, and long they tried, but it seemed tise- 
less. The violet went to the garden above, 
where the jasmine and the two lilies had 
gone Then the shadow lifted its weight 
from that garden, but before the sun could 
drive it entirely away, it caused a cold chilly 
wind to blow between the gardens where the 
larkspur and veronica lived, and blackened 
and finally killed some of the clinging ten- 
drils of affection that bound these two so 



Pas?e Nineteen 



closely together. 

But though the shadow had killed the vi- 
olet and wounded the larkspur and veronica, 
a great wonder had come into the garden of 
the veronica. A tiny, red rosebud, pure and 
lovely, had crept in, just as the veronica had 
crept years before, into the garden where 
the lily and the jasmine grew. 

And though the veronica was not always 
so sturdy and strong after that, could not do 
the things it so often wished to do, yet it 
cherished the lovely little rosebud, with an 
affection that was to deepen as the years 
went on, loved with a love that was to know 
no change, whatever might come to it, or the 
rosebud. Though there was to be joy and 
sorrow, sunshine and clouds, health and sick- 
ness, yet never for one moment ceased or 
diminished in the tiniest way, the love that 
the veronica and the pine tree had for the 
tiny rosebud that had come into their care. 

Now, in the garden where the veronica, 
the pine tree, and the rosebud lived, lived 
also a coriander, that flower whose worth is 
hidden; and an andromeda, the flower who 
knows nothing only self-sacrifice. The cori- 
ander was not lovely, neither was she grace- 

P»«c Twenty 



ful or dainty and quaint. She shed no fra- 
grance in this garden. Her worth was truly 
hidden, hidden deep in her heart, from the 
sight of all, only those who learned to lovei 
her. 

And she loved the veronica and pine tree, 
and they too learned to love the coriander, 
and to listen often to her advice and odd 
words of praise and blame. But because 
she was a foreign flower, had come to this 
garden from a far off country, methinks that 
the gardens in this country, not even her 
very own garden, ever fully reali;jed or ap- 
preciated her hidden worth. Perhaps it was 
to be so. It is possible that that great worth 
was onlv to bud here, and later blossom in a 
better land. 

But the andromeda was good to look upon, 
because she was always smiling and happy, 
helping and blessing all those who came near 
her. Truly she was the flower of self-sacri- 
fice, living always for others, and what she 
could do for them, toiling early and late for 
those that she loved. And then at the last, 
she gave her life that a stranger might live. 
Not every garden is blessed by an androme- 

Pagre Twenty-one 



da. Truly they are very rare. But oh, how 
greatly the world needs them. 

But other flowers grew in the garden with 
the pine tree and the veronica. There was 
a cyclamen whose name signifies diffidence. 
It came to the veronica's garden, because it 
had no other, and because the veronica and 
the rosebud needed it so badly. And a sum- 
mer and winter passed, and spring went on 
into summer again, before the cyclamen left 
the veronica's garden. But one day it 
seemed wise for the cyclamen to go to an- 
other garden, and so it said goodbye to the 
rosebud and veronica, and went away. 

But though it had left the garden, the 
memory of all it had done remained. Its 
tender loving care of the rosebud, its impet- 
uous youthful follies, and its shy diffidence, 
which after all, was the anchor that finally 
led it safe into its own tiny garden. And 
very, very often, the veronica sees the cycla- 
men, and thinks of the days when it lived in 
its g'arden; thinks of the wilful childish 
pranks, that was a part of that growing cy- 
clamen. 

And must I say that every garden needs 
the bachelor button? Well, perhaps so. 

Page Twenty-two 



Who can tell? But the garden that be- 
longed to the pine tree and the veronica, 
needed a bachelor button, needed one badly, 
as the years went on. Just how much these 
two needed it, no one ever knew, only the 
pine tree and the veronica. Not even the 
bachelor button realized. 

Perhaps this was because that at this time 
the weeds were growing so thrifty and 
strong all about in the pine tree's garden 
that the flowers that were there, could not 
see and understand their need of the bachel- 
or button. There were poisonous weeds, 
weeds of hatred and envy and gossip, and 
they whispered and nodded together, and 
said such shameful wicked things, that the 
flowers closed their eyes and ears, and so 
did not see how greatly the bachelor button 
was needed in this garden; did not see the 
great comfort and. cheer it brought to the 
veronica and pine tree, or how much it loved 
the rosebud. 

But though the ugly weeds, nodded and 
whispered, till the bachelor button ceased to 
grow in the pine tree's garden, ceased to lend 
its comfort and cheer, only from afar, yet 
Ihe veronica and pine tree have never for- 

Page Twenty-thr€« 



gotten how the bachelor button came to 
them, and offered help, and gave of its friend- 
ship and kindness when the weeds of greed 
and jealousy were growing rampant in their 
garden. 

Just as all gardens need a tree, so do they 
need a daisy. And into the garden where 
the rosebud, the pine tree, and veronica 
lived, came a wind-blown daisy, timid and 
tiny. And because it was so timid and tiny, 
and wind-blown, with its eyes always seek- 
ing yours, with a question in them, and its 
petals always blowing about its pleasant 
face, if there was the least breeze moving, 
the pine tree, the veronica and the rosebud 
learned to love it with a wonderful love. 

Many, many changes were to come, some 
of the flowers were to die, others to seek 
other gardens. And though the veronica- 
and the pine tree were to meet trials that 
were almost unbearable, yet the love for the 
tiny wind-blowm daisy was to be like that for 
the rosebud, ever watchful and constant. A 
love that was to give and take. And though 
the daisy w^as tiny and timid, yet it, like all 
other daisies, was a rugged little plant after 
all. And so, when it had this great love all 

Pagre Twenty-four 



about it, it grew and blossomed with a sweet 
pure loveliness, that only daisies know. 

Sometimes the clouds of childish anger 
and youthful ignorance swept with tremen- 
dous force over this growing daisy, and it 
was ever loath to receive reproof or advice, 
but quickly it would turn its face again to 
the sunshine, with which God blesses all gar- 
dens, thus proving to all who saw it, that it 
was in all its nature and qualities, a really 
true daisy. 

And through all the changing years that 
the garden saw, though others came and 
went, and slipped off some of their daily ha- 
bits and took on new ones, yet the daisy 
retained these three charms, the questioning 
•eyes, the shy hesitancy, and the queer little 
way of flirting its petals to the passing 
breezes. And all those that grow in the gar- 
den with this wind-blown daisy, hope it will 
be ever thus. 

Now most people think that the thistle is 
an ugly weed, and perhaps it is in some re- 
spects, but even ugly weeds can have lovely 
blooms. And the thistle has a truly lovely 
bloom, soft and exquisite in color and tex- 
ture and fragrance. It is true that the leaves 

Page Twenty -five 



are both fuzzy and prickly, but up from the 
heart of those fuzzy prickly leaves, comes 
that lovely dainty bloom. 

And it was just like this, that the garden, 
where the daisy lived, came to know the 
thistle. At first it seemed to be all thorns, 
and there seemed to be a thick coating over 
its leaf and stalk, a rough veneer through 
which no love could get, and from under 
which it seemed also impossible for any fra- 
grance or beauty to come. But gradually 
the thistle, like all the rest of the flowers 
that grew in this garden of Love, began 
slowly and even reluctantly to show some 
of its soft lovely beauty. It began to cast 
off some of that ugly coating and those irri- 
tating prickly ways, and send out faint 
promises of what it was to be. 

But oh, how much care and patience it 
took, it needed an abimdance of urging and 
attention, before it could trust even a little 
bit the other flowers in the garden. And 
the other flowers were also shy of the this- 
tle, they could not see that some day it would 
blossom with a pinkish purple loveliness, 
that they would never forget. But it did, af- 
ter a long tiini:. c.nl ihtn all the fiovvers Vv .:re 

VsLSe 'I'wcnty Sijt 



so happy, and they urged the thistle to keep 
on blooming, to give them some more of its 
dainty beauty. And because it saw that its 
efforts and beauty were appreciated, it never 
ceased trying to be lovely. Many times it 
failed, failed in a terrible v/ay, but always 
it rose above its failure, and bloomed again, 
fresh and lovely, as at first. 

As the thistle is dainty and exquisite in 
its coloring and texture, so the poppy is rich 
and glowing in its shading. And it was a 
lovely red poppy that came to the garden 
next. So full of color was it, so full of sun- 
shine and quaint ways, so different from all 
the other flowers, that often and often they 
looked on it in wonder, thinking it marvel- 
ous that so much color could be given to one 
blossom. And day after day, it stayed in 
this garden, trying with its rich coloring and 
quaint ways to offer consolation to those 
who needed it. And all the flowers came at 
last to know that the poppy could give for 
those that it loved, affection and cheer, from 
the heart, that equalled the rich color in its 
face. 

Again the shadow, dark and heavy, was 
hanging over the g'arden. The time had 

Ttkfge Twenty Seven 



come when the andromeda must give its life 
for a stranger. And day and night for 
weeks it toiled, cheerfully, patiently, and 
conscientiously; and finally the stranger 
was once more safe, but the andromeda sick- 
ened and called for help. And the pine tree 
and veronica, hearing the call went, and 
lovingly and carefully, yea, even prayerfully, 
removed the andromeda from the stranger's 
garden, and took it to one where they 
thought it could rest. But it had been a 
fiery ordeal for the andromeda, so much of 
sorrow and toil and self sacrifice, had 
wearied its heart, that one night when only 
the stars were watching, it slipped its earth- 
ly garment and went to find the violet, who 
had gone to the heavenly garden, with the 
lillies and jasmine. 

Oh, how greatly the flowers missed it 
All of them felt the loss of its wonderful 
love, but to the veronica and the mountain 
laurel it was a severe loss, one from which 
they never fully recovered, never quite for- 
got. 

So always when the spring comes, apd 
the trees are budding, and the sun is warm 
and bright over all, the veronica and the 

i*a^« Twenry-Sigrht 



mountain laurel long to see the cheerful lov- 
ing face of the andromeda again. Then 
when the autumn comes, and you gather 
your loved ones close about you, because the 
days are short and the nights are cool, it 
seems to these two who loved the androme- 
da so much, that it should come to see if 
they are all well tucked up for the winter. 
When it was in this earthly garden, it did 
not forget these two, and now that it is in 
the heavenly garden those who are left be- 
hind, do not forget. 

And the weeds? Yes, there were hosts of 
them now, and they were strong and tall, 
and rank. And they scattered their pollen 
far and wide, and some of it took root and 
more weeds grew. And those were trying 
times for the veronica and pine tree. Some- 
times it semed all they had left were the 
rosebud and the daisy. The thorn apple, the 
mountain laurel, and the honeysuckle had 
been driven away by the weeds, the violet 
and andromeda were forever gone; the 
shadow had come between the larkspur and 
them, while the bachelor button too, looked 
on from afar. But the poppy and the cori- 
ander, consolation and hidden worth, came 



now and then and loaned of their stock of 
cheer and blessings. 

But that great Gardener, who never fails 
or falters, gave to the veronica a flower, to 
fill the place in a tiny measure, where the 
andromeda had been. The oak-leaf gera- 
nium, the flower that means true friendship, 
was sent to this garden. And it came with 
such a quiet gracious dignity, that it was 
almost queenly in its ways. Then one night, 
when all else had failed, the oak-leaf gera- 
nium, proved its worth, proved its loyal 
friendship, and in its toil and care, saved to 
this garden the veronica. 

And the veronica knew it all, realized the 
depths from which it had been raised, and 
was grateful. But it did not quite under- 
stand. Nor did any of those other flowers 
about it. But years later, when the oak-leaf 
geranium had gone far away, they were to 
understand from whence it had gained this 
great ability to cheer and bless. And then 
after that one wonderful night, the oak-leaf 
geranium passed out of the garden, and aH 
the flowers thought it had forgotten them, 
even though they never forgot. But later 
the veronica came to know that it was only 

Pag-e Thirty 



the shadow of a weed that came between 
them. And the g-eranium understands also, 
and so there is only bright brilliant sunshine 
now, where the shadow was. 

All gardens to be complete, must have 
their bit of shamrock, and now this garden 
where the daisy and veronica, the rosebud 
and pine tree are growing, has taken to itself 
a bit of shamrock. And the shamrock 
and the veronica love each other dearly. 
The shamrock has its trials, sometimes they 
are quite heavy, but after a while, it shakes 
its curly dark head, and with a merry 
twinkle in its loving brown eyes and a whole- 
some happy laugh, it shifts its cares, and 
with the toiling world all around it, goes on 
its way once more happy and earnest, striv- 
ing for those who are nearest and dearest. 
Striving to meet their evergrowing needs 
and the tasks that this world says a man 
must have. And though at times the sham- 
rock seems a bit careless, and sometimes 
with a sharp cynical word, wounds the other 
flowers all about it, yet they have come to 
know that it is only a passing whim, that 
deep in the heart of the shamrock is a warm 
tender love, a love for all, who might reach 

Panfe Thirty -one 



out to it in distress. It could not be a sham- 
rock, if it were not thus. 

An old-fashioned garden, like this one, 
would not be complete, unless it had a huge 
mound of moss, with its tiny pink, blue and- 
yellow blossoms, which speak to the world 
of maternal love. And though this mossy 
mound has been in this garden for many 
years, and sometimes growing close to the 
shamrock, yet it is so reticent, so hard to 
approach and understand, that none of the 
flowers, only the shamrock, can tell you 
much of its nature, other than it has a wond- 
rous wealth, and abundant supply of mater- 
nal affection. But . there is one flower in 
this garden, that daily is hoping that the 
moss will some day remove its cloak of re- 
serve and coldness, and learn to love and 
understand all the flowers that are growing 
with it. 

But I must tell you about the acacia, the 
flower whose meaning is friendship. It 
came to the garden one morning, when the 
pine tree was in sore need of a friend, and 
it quickly proved its worth, took up the tasks 
that were assigned, and performed each one 
faithfully, and in a cheerful friendly way, 

f'Krc Thirty -two 



It had a wealth of wordly knowledge, an 
abundance of witty tales, and a wonderful 
propensity to rise above, the troubles that 
came to it And for six weeks it stayed in 
this garden, then because it was a transient, 
a wanderer, it went like the yellow chrysan- 
themum, to wider fields, to larger gardens. 

But once every year it would come back 
to the pine tree's garden. And a great af- 
fection sprang up between the pine tree and 
the acacia, and also it learned to love the 
rosebud and the wind-blown daisy. And it 
was this love for the wind-blown daisy that 
brought it to the garden one day, when it 
was foot-sore, woKrld-weary, and heart-sick. 
And it never left the garden again, till it too 
went to find the others, who had gone from 
all earthly gardens. 

True, it had times of wandering, times of 
deep black distress, times when the strong 
bitter winds of temptation cast it from this 
garden, with a force that over-powered and 
put aside as naught, the great wealth of af- 
fection that it had for the garden. But al- 
ways when those black clouds had passed, a 
kindly message would come, saying that 
once more it had risen, once more it was 

P.«C« ThirtT-tbre« 



striving, after all the wasted, sin-blighted 
years, to reach the standard that this gar- 
den held out to it. 

And the veronica and daisy came to know, 
that though many, many years were lying 
before them, that never again would they 
find a friendship so loyal and unselfish. 

Then one dav, when the acacia had been 
wandering many weary weeks, when that 
terrible weakness had dragged it down to 
the depths, a hand, strong and steady, yet 
firm and white, but with a caressing touch, 
that only the heart of a woman knows, 
reached down and took the acacia to a flower 
that would bring it rest and peace. And so 
citer many years of hopeless despair, of lost 
faith, and destroyed hopes, the acacia found 
peace and a blessing. 

And this blessing, rich and full, and un- 
failing, the acacia- brought to the veronica. 
It was to be, it was the atonement for the 
sin-filled, wasted years. And because this 
blessing is boundless and eternal, and free to 
all mankind, today the flowers, all of them 
that grow in the garden that the acacia 
loved, are happy and grateful, learning more 

Pafire Thirty-four 



and more each day of the priceless treasures 
that this blessing holds. 

And though the acacia has left this earthly 
garden, and the weeds once more nodded 
their heads in a wordly-wise way, and 
whispered things that were so bad that even 
the passing breezes could not taint them- 
selves with them, the garden that the acacia 
loved, and loved to the very last moment, 
knows that ^'Greater love hath no man, than 
this, that he lay down his life for his friends/' 

Still another loss had come to this garden. 
The shadow had again rested on it, and un- 
der the wings of this shadow called Death, 
the coriander went away. Went to sunlit, 
blossom-iilled fields, that are boundless and 
beautiful in that great beyond. And all 
those who knew the coriander said, ''Oh, it 
was a good flower, so good and kind and 
true, that it reflected a wealth of the 
Master's love.'' 

And the pansy, that w^ondrously beautiful 
flower, came to this garden also. Came 
with its lovely smiling face, its rich beauty 
and rare colorings, its great store of grace 
and unselfishness and patience. And though 
it loved all the flowers and spoke kind words 

F*ire Thirty-Ate 



to all that came near it, yet it was the ver^ 
onica that it really toiled for, in that loving 
labor that is given to God's children, here in 
these earthly gardens. And many days and 
weeks and months it stayed in this garden, 
and toiled unceasingly, ever sweet, ever 
ready, and glad and happy to do its work. 

Even though the pansy had to leave this 
garden, and go to other gardensv hundreds 
of them, to give to them that same loving 
toil, the seeds it left behind, have taken root, 
and struck deep into the heart of the garden. 
And though the years may come and go, 
though other flowers are to shed their beauty 
and fragrance in this garden, though weeds 
are to whisper and try to blight with their 
wicked thoughts, all the flowers, yet the ver- 
onica will never forget the hours of patient 
loving toil that the pansy gave for its gar- 
den. And all the flowers shout in one great 
voice and say, *'Oh^ that there were more 
pansies ; that they were growing everywhere. 
Truly, it would be a much better world.'' 

The elder is the flower that means zeal- 
ousness, and that was the flower that came 
next to the garden. And it has, as you know, 
a lovely creamy-white spray of bloom, fine 



in texture and faintly fragrant. And the 
elder in this garden was true to standard 
zealous to an extreme, in all that it was in- 
terested in, painstaking and careful in all 
that it did. And a mind and heart that was 
hungry and ever receptive to all the good 
there was about it, ever seeking for itself^- 
and its loved ones, the good things that this 
world offers. There were times when the 
zeal for some desired point or ambition 
w^ould over-ride the kindness and beauty 
that w^as in its nature, and at these times, 
^nothing quite pleased the elder, or was it 
pleasant to have in the garden. But always 
it wHiuld rise above that fault and again the 
better qualities would assert themselves, and 
once more it v/ould be the kindly helpful 
elder. 

And the days went on into years, and the 
elder stayed in the garden, and very, very 
often it reached out and gave a helping hand 
to the veronica, the pine tree, the dais}^ and" 
rosebud. And now that more vears have 
passed, and the elder is gone from this gar- 
den, the four whom it helped so much, often 
say, and more often think, ''God bless the 
elder. The world needs more of them also/" 

Page Thirty-seve* 



And it was a laughing gold-hearted daf- 
fodil that came to the garden next. Surely 
it was one of the host of **Wordsworth's daf- 
fodils/' It must have been, for never has 
the garden forgotten it^ and often and ever 
the *'inner eye'' of the garden sees the glow- 
ing sunshine of the dancing, laughing daf- 
fodil. Ever and always the garden thinks of 
its beautiful coloring, so soft and natural, of 
its gray-blue eyes, which held in their depths 
a wealth of affection for the flowers that 
were growing all about it, and of its kindly 
ministrations, when some of them fainted 
and needed a helpful, cheering word. Lov- 
ingly and happily, yea, even eagerly it shed 
the golden sunshine of its hair, the lovely 
coloring of its face, and the soft beauty of 
its eyes, to this garden. The growing tend- 
rils of its rich, young, care-free affection, 
reached out and took root in the heart of the 
veronica. And several years have passed, 
since the daffodil visited this garden. Many 
summers and winters have gone, with their 
sunshine and shadows, but the love that the 
garden has for the daffodil has remained 
unchanged through the passing years. And 
ever nn-:! nnon the .2;arden is wishing that the 

Fan;:*, Thirty -eight 



daffodil would come again. It very greatly 
needs its sunshine, its spot of golden yellow, 
its coloring so rare, and exquisite, and the 
loving helpful grace of its winsome cheerful 
ways. 

But other flowers are growing in this gar- 
den. And one of them which is rare and 
almost priceless, is the Balm of Gilead, the 
flower whose meaning is cure, relief. It 
came to the garden at a time, when hot suns 
were drying and withering all the other 
lovely blooms. Came just when it was 
needed the most. And it quickly set about 
to prove its worth, to give to this garden 
some of its wisdom, and kind, ever-patient 
love. And because it was wise and patient, 
and loving, it labored long and earnestly in 
this garden. Never tiring, because it 
towered far above all the other flowers, so 
strong and tall and constant was it. Strong, 
because it had labored long in other gardens; 
strong, because it had put aside all the 
wordly pleasures of the unthinking. Strong, 
because it had, like those it labors for, with 
the help of the great Father, climbed above 
and beyond the fetters of a useless existence 
that the shadows held for it- Strong, be- 

P«g€ Thirty-Bin* 



cause it had an abiding' love for God and all 
mankind in its heart. Constant, because 
Constancy is always a part of this abiding^ 
love; Constant because it saw the tremend- 
ous need of all. Constant, because it saw the 
shadows that were lurking behind the g'ar- 
den and constant, for the sake of all those 
who so dearly loved the g-arden. 

Day after day, till the days went into 
months, andthe months into years, the balm 
of Gilead stayed in this garden, and because 
of its patient, constant loving* labor, the 
shadows slipped away fom the garden, and 
sunshine and peace came to stay. 

It was the flower with beautiful eyes, the 
varieg'ated tulip that came now to the gar- 
den; came hopping and skipping, care-free 
and innocent. And with its lovely brown 
eyes, its wealth of dark brown hair, the ex- 
quisite coloring of childhood, on lips and 
cheek, it made a glowing patch of color in 
the garden. And it loved the garden, and 
the garden loved the tulip, and they love 
each other yet. And often w^hen the flowers 
in the garden needed a reviving shower, the 
tulip with its childish prattle, its innocent 
baby ways, would come bounding in with a 

Page Fi3i'ty ■ 



tiny gift, a gift of love, to bestow on the 
flower garden. 

And the garden is hoping, that as the 
years go by, and the variegated tulip slips 
off its childish ways, and colorings, that it 
will retain all the pure, deep affection it now 
has for the garden, where once it played, 
a care-free, happy loving child. 

But again the shadow had come, and now 
it was everyyhere, over all the gardens in 
all the lands. That horrible black shadow 
of war and death. And from all the gardens, 
in all the lands, the rosebuds were going. 
The strong, sturdy, youthful flower of all 
the lands was marching away, and this gar- 
den knew that it could not shirk; that be- 
cause rich blessings had come to it, the 
richest blessings, and the greatest trials that 
gardens can know, it too must give its rose- 
bud. 

So one day the rosebud went, and the flow- 
ers in the g'arden were brave and helpful, 
one to the other, and they prayed and hoped, 
watched and trusted. Trusted all to the lov- 
ing Father of all rosebuds. Then that loving 
Father, in his infinite mercy, lifted the 
shadow, and the rosebud came home again, 

Pagw Forty -one 



safe and unharmed, only for the lines of 
strain in its face, that the experience had 
put there. 

But all the flowers in this garden, think 
often and often of the rosebuds that did not 
return, of the lonely gardens, where no rose- 
bud is blooming, and a great prayer of thank- 
fulness goes up to the throne of grace, that 
not all the rosebuds were taken. That God 
who is all good, took away the shadow. 

And it happened in a very natural way, in 
the same way that it happens to all gardens, 
that a dahlia came to this garden to stay. 
Now this dahlia is not lovely and dainty in 
coloring, but has rich dark colors, like the 
shamrock. It has that same dark curling 
hair, the same brown eyes, and the same 
laughing ways, for those it loves. And like 
the shamrock, it too has its store of unkind 
retort and impulsive youthful mistakes. But 
the garden looks beyond all that, and sees 
only the iove that lies deep at the heart of 
the dahlia, like the heart of the shamrock, 
and knows that as the years go on, the dahlia 
will lose all that is a part of inexperienced 
y«^^nth.. and when the sorrows and \ojs have 
t.p.cIlowed knd tested it, i-t will add an aBimd- 

P»g< Jt'orty-two 



ant store of cheer and love and sunshine.. 
And even now, with its soft curling tresses 
and its dark rich colors, it makes a large 
addition to the garden. And so all the flow- 
ers have come to look for its daily presence 
among them; have come to know that the 
dahlia is to be one of them. 

Side by side for many years now, there 
has been growling in this garden, the hibis- 
cus, whose meaning is delicate beauty, and 
the salvia, who speaks to you of energy. 
And they have grown very contentedly, and 
have added much beauty and pleasure. A 
great contrast they are, the hibiscus with its 
pale sweet face, and the salvia with its 
wealth of color. y\nd often the other flow- 
ers in the garden think of these two, side by 
side and yet so Avidely different in color, na- 
ture and form. And as they think of them, 
they know that there have been a few times, 
a very few perhaps, when they, both of them, 
have desired to wander to slip this garden's 
bonds, and grow in another garden. But 
alwa3^s the restlessness has been overcome. 
Once more they have thrived contentedly 
and so the passing years find them still here, 
giving to the garden from their store of 

I'ajre Forty -three 



sweetness, energy, color and love. 

And just as it is now, with all its flowers, 
with its myriad shadings and forms, with all 
its fragrance and grace, we will leave the 
garden. Leave it with the honeysuckle, the 
mountain laurel, and the thorn apple still 
watching from their far away habitation, 
ever loving, ever striving to fill the place 
given to them in this garden. And because 
the mountain laurel and the honeysuckle are 
the oldest flowers in this garden, because for 
many years, they have seen the winter's 
snow lay deep, and summer's sun shine 
scorching hot, because they are rich in ex- 
perience, rich in the ^yealth of old age, the 
garden, every flower in it, bows its head and 
humbly and reverently says: long live the 
mountain laurel, whose wonderful worth has 
been proven, times without number, and the 
honeysuckle, whose love and kindness has 
known no change with the passing years/' 

Leave the garden also, with the shadow 
resting between the larkspur and the ver- 
onica, with the golden sunshine between the 
oak-leaf geranium and the veronica, with 
the bachelor button, looking on from afar, 
and the yellow chrysanthemum in a foreign 

Page Forty-four 



land. 

And to them all, wherever they may be^ 
and to all the world beside, the garden lifts 
its hands and across the spaces it waves a. 
message of cheery sunshine, of sweetest fra- 
grance and a wealth of love, calling loud and 
clear, as the message floats out and away, 
''Adieu, and Adieu." 



Tmg€ Forty -•▼• 



(X>MMENTS 



Yours is a most interesting and wOttiderful garden. 
It breathes forth . fresh ploughed fields, burning wood, 
many colors of sunshine and best of ail old memories. 

Just as a gardener cultivates his plot, keeping it free 
from weeds, and growing the flowers and fruits which he 
requires, so may a man tend the garden of his mind, 
weeding out all the wrong useless and impure thoughts, 
cultivating towards perfection the flowers and fruits of 
right useful and pure thoughts. And so we learn 
from "A Flower Garden" a tender beautiful lesson, wed 
worth reading. 

"A Flower Garden" reveals tiie author's g^ift of de- 
picting the changes and influences of life. 

In "A Flower Garden" you have brought things and 
facts into literature and that is a great gift. 

I read "A Flower Garden" hurriedly, I wish to read it 
again. It is worth a second reading. 

At first and even second reading, I wa3 inclined to 
pick a fuss with the author about repetition of terms and 
associations, but the more I studied its didactic content, 
the more convincing became the evidence of her good 
judgment. 

The book, "A Flower Garden" contains a wealldi of 
plant biology without being technical, a fine moral philoso- 
V^S, good flower psychology, and not a little metaphysial 
both SiCAdemie and spiiitiial. 

Page Forty-six 



It has been a great pleasure to me to saunter in yoiur 
"Garden'*, (one cannot hurry), because of your ability 
to metamorphose, personify, humanize, and finally spirit- 
ualize flowers. That is the really big thing to do, t» 
translate seeming things into seeming thoughts, and d^ 
velop real things into real thoughts. 



Ptre Fotrtj^Be^em 



